me
by Nanuk
Summary: Reflections...


Author´s note: Some playing around with thoughts I had. Be tolerant please, English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy nevertheless. Feedback is very welcome (  
  
me  
  
He felt offended, and hurt; and sorry. Most of all he felt sorry.  
  
It wasn´t so much what he´d said, more the way he´d said it. He knew that his family was very tolerant concerning his ever-changing and unpredictable moods – it was the only way to be able to live with him for a longer period of time without killing him out of frustration – but he couldn´t understand why they would always treat him with unconditional love, no matter what he said. There was nothing he could do that would destroy that, well, killing or hurting one of them would be the exceptions, but he would never do that, not knowingly, anyway.  
  
And yet, somehow it was that unconditional love that drove him crazy, that love that always tried to find a way to live with him, despite of what he had just said or done to hurt them. He felt offended when they raised their voices to protest every now and then, pointed out to him his unfair behaviour, because he felt that he´d done no such thing. But the worst thing of all was that he HAD done it, but didn´t even notice it until it was too late.  
  
It could be a timbre in is voice, a unconscious raising of his voice that hurt them, and he wouldn´t even notice, too occupied with his own thoughts and problems, and they would bottle it in themselves to keep the peace. He would see their sad faces over the meals, would know that something was wrong, but would never say a thing, knowing that a friendly word from himself would make them smile again, would make them forget. He would feel bad for a day or two and then his subconscious would eventually subside and he would go on and forget that he had hurt them.  
  
More often then not his anger was not directed at a person, was just a feeling or mood he ran around with all day without knowing he was in that mood, until something made him speak, an innocent question, a work not done fast enough, anything that got his attention. Then he would lash out, would let go of his anger and drown someone with rage who most of the time had no idea what was happening or what had triggered that reaction. Often he didn´t even want to hurt the people, was his anger not directed at anyone at all. But the person perceived it as an offense – and was more often than not right about it.  
  
He felt sorry about it, truly sorry, because he knew he took that love for granted. He´d learned to be careful when it came to people outside the family, acting polite and helpful. It was not that he behaved differently around his family members. It was just that he didn´t pay so much attention to what he said and how, because he thought he could trust them to understand what he really meant. But perhaps they were too close, so close as to take everything personally that others would put down to a dark mood and forget in an instant. Perhaps they were too close.  
  
It was his fault, he knew it was. HE had let himself forget that his family deserved to be adressed politely. Had taken their love for granted and unwavering. But apologizing never came easy to him; admitting to be wrong would make him appear weak in front of himself, would make him feel small and unimportant, someone who didn´t deserve anything.  
  
Just as he felt now, knowing he´d hurt them – again. They looked at him with their big eyes, blue and green and chocolate brown, expecting him to reply...something, but he couldn´t. The embarrassment he felt made him want to be sick. He wanted to cry out to them that he was sorry, truly sorry for what had happened, but he couldn´t do it. His damn pride would not allow it. He closed his eyes for a moment and took deep breath. He knew he was a coward, but he couldn´t stand to see their hurt expressions any longer. Slowly he turned around and walked out of the door, knowing as he did so that nothing would ever be the same.  
  
By the time he´d reached the barn his whole body shook with shame. Slowly he mounted Sport, then rode out of the barn, shivering more than ever and barely able to hold on. He gritted his teeth and pushed his feet into the horse´s sides in a vain attempt to outrun all feelings and emotions. It didn´t help. He had known it wouldn´t make him forget, it never had. He knew he ran away, unable to admit that he had been wrong. But facing his family without thinking it all over by himself... Sport stumbled, and he found himself suddenly flying through the air and hitting the ground in a hollow "thump". Cursing, he sat up and glanced at his horse that came wandering towards him with an expression of "sorry" – if horses could have any expressions at all, he mused.  
  
Only then did he have a look around. Without noticing, he´d reached the higher regions of the mountains, the pines were already thinning and sometimes left enough space to have a good view over the lake that lay like a huge mirror in the green veil of trees, blue and patient as the sky above.  
  
Still shivering he settled into a more comfortable position and tried to think. Why was it that he had trouble voicing something without having thought about it first? Why was it he always wanted control over what was going on?  
  
He stared hard at the endless surface. He knew the answer to all this, had known it for a long time, ever since it was first pointed out to him, his rudeness, his impatience.  
  
Knowing should influence the changing, he thought, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips, although he felt much more like crying. The truth was, he wanted control. He wanted control over himself so that he could influence the picture others had of him, could make them believe what he wanted them to, so that they would not see what he tried to keep hidden: his self, small and unimportant, wanting, needing. Oh, he had learned to trust his values over the years, knew what he was worth – he grimaced at the thought. What was he worth? For his father, his brothers? Why did they put up with him? Why didn´t he want people to get to know everything of him, all the strength, all the weakness?  
  
The answer was there as all the others had been, slipping into his mind when he didn´t notice. He didn´t want them to see his weakness, didn´t want them to think bad of him, because...because he needed their love. He could not let them see how weak he was without them, that he needed them, more than they needed him. He could not tell them for fear they would leave him. It wasn´t a new thought, he´d known for years how much he depended on the love of his family. That was what made him going on, step after step, knowing that this love would be there, love for him. That he was loved.  
  
The tears would come then, unbidden as always. In vain he would try to stop them, but always his body would win the fight for control and release the emotions he´d hidden inside himself - again. Pity, he thought as the sobs tore through his body, pity. Self-pity. I´m nothing.  
  
It was late in the evening when he finally arrived home. He felt more strange than he had in a long time, dreading and anticipating the meeting with his family at the same time. Silently he stabbled his horse and tried to think what he could say. He almost smiled as he became aware of what he was doing, but the truth was, he´d hurt them more than ever before, and he didn´t know how they´d react. Only, he had to say something. As long as they didn´t speak with each other, he wouldn´t be able to breath.  
  
Approaching the entrance, he could hear their voices through the door. Hoss and Joe were obviously busy playing checkers, as so many nights before, their happy voices making him feel even more lonely than before. Every now and then he heard a comment of his father, reading something from the newspaper or laughing at a remark of Joe. He hesitated. For a second he wasn´t sure whether he should disturb their peace. Then his mind wandered back to what he had felt and thought that afternoon. Gently, he pushed the door open and took a cautious step in.  
  
They hadn´t noticed yet he was here. Standing in the shadows he let his gaze wander over his family and felt his chest swell with love so strong that it brought the tears back to his eyes. Joe was there, smiling the happy smile of his childhood days, and Hoss, who was losing another game with gentle patience. His father was sitting in his chair, his forehead in wrinkles as he mused about something in the newspaper. His family.  
  
"I´m sorry", he said, out of the shadows. I´m sorry. I was wrong and didn´t have the courage to apologize. I was wrong, and I hurt you. I´m so sorry for all the grief I caused you. I´m sorry.  
  
He watched the surprised faces turn in his direction, and wondered whether he should have come back here. Surely they would live a better life without him giving them all those troubles... He wondered if not perhaps...  
  
Joe was the first to stand, and come over to where he still stood in the shadows, hat in hand, unsure of what to do next. Not knowing where to look or what to say, he silently watched Joe´s face, and from the corners of his eyes Hoss and his father who too had left their seats and came over to him. Silently he watched, ready to take whatever they had to say, whatever they chose to do.  
  
Joe reached out and touched his temple, softly, like a butterfly, but Adam started back as if he´d slapped him. "What happened to you?" he asked gently, taking in his dusted coat and torn shirt, the cut in his skin he didn´t know he had. Three pairs of eyes were on him, concerned sympathetic eyes that searched his face.  
  
"I fell", he muttered, never taking his eyes off Joe, the brother he´d hurt this morning, and suddenly reached out and drew him in a tight embrace. "I´m sorry", he whispered, "I´m so sorry!"  
  
The arms of his brother came up around him and held him while his eyes filled with tears. And it was then that he knew he was safe. He was safe, because he was loved.  
  
The end 


End file.
